


Renewed

by lookingforthestars



Series: Games [2]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-06-09 20:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6921151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingforthestars/pseuds/lookingforthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Anniversary. An enemy Scorpion thought they had defeated makes a triumphant return, controlling one member's life in a game that could finally tear the team apart for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Graduation

"Red or blue?"

Walter glanced over to the liaison, standing at the entrance of his closet and holding up two ties. He pursed his lips thoughtfully before shrugging and turning his attention back to pulling a brush through his messy hair. "You can choose."

Even in his peripheral vision, Walter could see the surprise in Paige's expression and he suppressed a smirk. He enjoyed her reaction when he didn't act the way she expected.

"Wow," she teased, a grin forming on her lips. "Walter O'Brien is ceding control over his wardrobe. This is a big day."

"It's just a tie," the genius answered noncommittally, but he knew exactly what she meant. As a child, he had very little say in the course of his life, controlled by powerful people who used his IQ to serve their own whims and agendas. This translated into some trust issues throughout his adulthood, and Walter knew he could be relentlessly stubborn even over minor details.

But if he'd ever had reservations about trusting Paige, they were gone after she refused to leave him with Collins. She had to know that he was allowing her control over things far more important than a scrap of fabric.

Paige held the two options against her sleeveless gray dress and decided on the blue one, pushing the red one back into the closet. She draped the chosen tie over the back of Walter's chair and dropped down onto the edge of his bed, crossing her ankles. "Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing," she said, but Walter could feel her eyes on him as he finished smoothing down a stubborn strand of hair and reached for his button-down. "It's just…you look really good in T-shirts. You should wear them more often."

He stared down at his white undershirt and frowned. "You don't like the way I dress?"

Walter's petulant tone made Paige laugh, and she stood up from the bed, crossing over to him. "Not what I said," she assured him, taking the button-down from his hands and circling around behind him, assisting his arms through the sleeves. When that was done, she returned to the front and smoothed the fabric over his shoulders before her fingers moved to secure the top button. "I appreciate that you dress like an adult. I just like seeing you without your armor, sometimes."

That armor had crumbled the second he admitted to Paige that he loved her, three months ago on one of the worst days of their lives. He'd never said those words to any woman he was romantically involved with, not to fulfill expectations in a relationship, not even to get out of trouble. Walter always argued that was because he didn't believe in the concept, and to express it falsely would betray his loyalty to scientific fact. But he'd started to think, now, maybe his problem was always that he had been waiting. Waiting for the woman that would make it true.

Spurred on by his thoughts, Walter leaned down and captured her lips suddenly, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her into him. He could feel Paige gasp softly against his mouth, but she recovered and gathered his shirt in her fists to keep him close. The liaison had gotten used to this, Walter kissing her without warning. He never meant to startle her; often, like now, he'd become lost in his thoughts and couldn't resist acting on them, particularly if he and Paige were alone. What seemed abrupt to her was actually the result of a mental process that Walter had simply not verbalized, and she accepted that it was his way of demonstrating what he might otherwise struggle to tell her.

It amazed him how natural it was, her hands on his body, and there was no debate about how much he enjoyed having his hands on her. Not that it was so easy in the beginning. Their relationship started unconventionally, with baggage, uncertainty, the memory of hurtful words and betrayal. But it started, regardless, because once the truth was out there didn't seem to be any possibility of going back.

Paige pulled back first, inhaling deeply to combat her breathlessness. "This shirt is good too."

Walter chuckled at her response and stepped back, releasing her and forcing his electrified hands to focus on the unfinished buttons. "We should leave within the next ten minutes. The traffic around Ralph's school is likely to be heavy today."

"How do you…?" Paige sighed, shaking her head. She often expressed envy toward Walter for his ability to switch from kissing her like _that_ to resuming whatever task he was completing before, while she took significantly longer to think straight. The genius gave her a vague excuse about his multitasking skills, but she had no idea what she really did to him, or that he enjoyed having a similar impact on her. "Never mind. I'm going to check on Ralph, just meet us downstairs."

Walter nodded his agreement and Paige pushed through the door of the loft, taking a brief second at the top of the stairs to pat down her hair and swipe around her mouth to erase any smudged lipstick. The corner of her lips curved up behind her hand. The genius who seemed so cold and uptight to the rest of the world was capable of much more intensity and passion than she ever expected. Paige had a feeling she'd only scratched the surface with him.

But she wanted to know everything.

"Mom?"

Paige started out of her thoughts at Ralph's voice. She hustled down the stairs and found him slumped in the rolling chair at his desk. When Walter had revealed Ralph's new workstation, complete with office supplies and computer equipment that Paige knew had to be top-of-the-line, she'd insisted that it wasn't necessary. But Ralph was a part of Scorpion, he argued—or would be, in time—and Walter noted the logic of investing in the boy's intelligence.

She had a hunch there was another angle to it. If Collins had his way, Paige and Ralph would be thousands of miles away, cut off from any contact with the team. The desk was Walter's way of attaching permanence, a statement that the young genius was right where he belonged.

"What's up, buddy?" Paige bit her lip as she studied her son's face, a little pale and sweaty in the overhead lights. "Are you okay? You look like you might be sick."

"I have a temperature of…" Ralph shut his eyes and thought carefully. "Ninety-nine point forty-seven."

She crouched down and lifted the back of her hand to his forehead. "You're still within the normal range, for now. Do you think you might just be a little nervous?"

He considered the possibility. "About my speech?"

"Yeah." Ralph was excellent at staying calm in stressful situations, and giving his middle school valedictorian speech was hardly the scariest thing he'd ever done, but she read that some people feared public speaking more than death and she didn't want to discount any apprehension he might have. "It's okay if you are, sweetie."

"Do you think it would explain my dizziness?"

Paige shrugged. She was hardly a nurse, but she had been a shy kid once, and it tugged at her heart a little to see Ralph struggling with uncertainty. "Maybe. Listen, let's go to your ceremony. You'll give your speech, and if you still don't feel well, we can just go home and rest, okay?"

Ralph nodded wordlessly—Paige marveled at how many quirks he and Walter shared, and she wondered if her son was copying him intentionally or if they were just that similar—and she pressed a kiss against the side of his head before straightening up.

"Alright, kiddo. Time to crush graduation."

* * *

Walter wasn't the best at reading nonverbal cues, but when the liaison shifted in her chair and pulled down the hem of her dress for the ninth time, he felt it was safe to say that something was wrong. "Paige?"

"Hm?" She glanced up to see his look of concern and smiled unconvincingly. "I'm fine. I just…" Paige tilted her head from side to side, debating whether or not to express her concerns and risk sounding overprotective, before she blurted out, "Do you think I should have made Ralph come? He really didn't look good at the garage. Maybe I should have taken him straight home."

Walter reached awkwardly over the armrest, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. The chairs in Ralph's auditorium were too close together and Paige was practically burning up from the combined heat of two hundred attendees, but she appreciated the reassuring gesture regardless. "First of all…" A woman sitting in front of them cast a dirty look in their direction, so he dropped his voice to a whisper. "First of all, I don't think you can make Ralph do anything he doesn't want to do. Secondly, this is an important day in his life. He worked hard for this; you were right to ensure that he experiences it."

Paige released a deep breath, feeling some of the weight lift off her shoulders. "Thank you." Somewhere deep in her anxious brain, she realized the principal was announcing her son's name and snapped her attention back to the stage. Ralph crossed over to the podium and Paige tightened her grip on Walter, noting that the genius also seemed to be tensing up with anticipation.

"Thank you for being here," he greeted from the stage, a politeness in his tone that Paige knew was the one thing he hadn't learned from Scorpion. "I'm going to keep this short, because you all tuned out as soon as your children received their diplomas."

The audience burst into laughter, and Paige knew she was beaming like a proud mother. Toby had helped Ralph write his speech, and her only real contribution was a quick scan for any double entendres the shrink might have snuck in. The rest was all her son.

"I've always had a complicated relationship with school. Not with the classes, because I love learning. With everything else. I've struggled my entire life to fit in. I knew that I saw the world differently from other people, but I didn't understand what purpose it served."

She swallowed hard as a decade of memories flooded back to her at once. The years she'd misunderstood Ralph, thought he was disabled in some way while missing out on the incredible gifts he had to offer. Paige was sure she would always feel some guilt over that, but at least things were different now.

"It's easy to get competitive, or to feel insecure, about our academic accomplishments. But my mother works with some of the smartest people in the world, and I'm going to share what I've learned from them." Ralph looked straight ahead into the audience; with his memory, he didn't even need notecards, though Paige had insisted he should bring them just in case. "The first thing I've learned is that there are different kinds of intelligence. We all have strengths and weaknesses. On a team, all of those strengths are necessary and all of those weaknesses can be overcome."

Paige glanced over at Walter. She was getting choked up, and she'd been prepared, so she couldn't imagine what was going through the genius's mind as he watched Ralph intently.

"The other thing I've come to understand is that any kind of learning, any type of intelligence, is only worthwhile if it helps people. No matter what your strengths are, no matter how you see the world, you can use that to make a difference in someone's life when they're in need. And you should. If you ever wonder why you are the way you are—what your purpose is in life—just know that one day, you will be needed. Thank you."

Paige frantically wiped the tears away from her eyes. She thought her heart was going to come out of her chest as the attendees applauded for Ralph. It seemed like, for the first time, everyone else could see him the way she did.

The rest of the team clapped almost deafeningly loud next to her, Toby letting out repeated whistles. But Paige couldn't stop looking at Walter. He was staring straight ahead, but the glassiness in his eyes spoke volumes.

"I know," she breathed, wrapping her free hand around his upper arm and leaning in closer to him. Paige ducked her head, laughing at herself in embarrassment at how uncontrollably emotional she was.

Walter stiffened suddenly, and Paige pulled back, worried that she had pushed too much physical contact on him when he was clearly already overwhelmed. "Sorry."

"No, Paige, something's wrong."

The liaison followed his gaze to the stage and clutched his arm as she realized the reason for his concern. Whatever color had remained in Ralph's face that morning was drained, and he was sweating profusely, swaying slightly in his spot as the principal shook his hand.

"Stay here," Walter insisted, already halfway up from his seat. "I'll get him."

Ralph took one step away from the podium and collapsed.


	2. Fear

"Paige…"

"Don't do it," Toby warned in a stage whisper, shaking his head fervently. Walter looked over at his friend and furrowed his eyebrows, confused as the shrink pulled his finger across his throat, which the genius took to mean that whatever he was preparing to say was going to end badly. He wasn't sure what, exactly, was so dangerous about telling Paige that she was wasting her energy by pacing around the waiting room and encouraging her to calm down, but Toby had some experience with tempestuous women, so he kept his mouth shut.

The dirty glance she threw their way suggested that it was, indeed, best for him not to finish his thought. Her heels clacked loudly against the tile floor as she stormed through the row of chairs the team was seated in, spinning around and heading in the other direction for the eighteenth time.

Fortunately, it was Cabe who spoke first, breaking the unbearably thick atmosphere. "Kid, it's okay. Ralph is going to be fine."

"You don't know that," Paige snapped, her normally reassuring demeanor cold as ice. "You don't know anything, and neither do I. Why? Because we've been here for forty minutes and not a single person can tell me what the _hell_ is wrong with my son." The agent reached out to touch her arm, but she yanked it away and continued her pacing, ignoring the concerned looks from the team. "If a doctor doesn't come out in the next five minutes, I swear, I'm going back there and you're going to have to arrest me to get me out, Cabe."

The older man leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his hands nervously over his legs as he and Walter locked eyes. They were all on edge, but the geniuses were waiting for the facts until they started to panic. Paige, on the other hand, obviously assumed the worst. It was understandable. Ralph was at the center of Paige's life. He was everything to her.

Walter had hoped, at first, that Ralph's condition was merely a result of dehydration, low blood pressure, nerves…but when he began to seize in the ambulance, it was clear they wouldn't be so lucky.

"Paige," he said lowly as he rose from his chair and rested his hand on her elbow, stilling her. He could feel her tense, but she didn't pull away from him. "Do you want something? Water? Tell me what you need."

Her face started to crumble a little, and Walter wondered if she was going to have a breakdown in the hospital. He certainly wouldn't judge her, and neither would the team, but he questioned his ability to adequately comfort her in that level of grief. Walter would have to find a way, though. Toby might have to talk him through it, but he was determined not to draw away when she needed him the most.

Paige took a deep breath and regained some of her composure, wiping away her tears with the heel of her hand. When she finally met his gaze, the rims of her eyes were red and her cheeks were flushed. "I need to see him," she said in a near whisper, shaking softly underneath Walter's fingers. "Please find someone who will let me see him."

"Okay." He could do that. He could take Cabe and interrogate every member of the hospital staff if she needed him to. Anything was better than standing next to her and feeling helpless. Walter squeezed her arm, an awkward gesture for him but in the moment, it felt like the right one.

He'd only just released Paige when Dr. Albanese came through a set of double doors holding a chart, and the liaison was in his face in an instant. "Where is Ralph?"

"Ralph is stable," the doctor said evenly, seemingly unfazed by the emotional mother in front of him. "We've moved him into the isolation ward as a precaution, and we've received the results of his tox screen, but we need to ask you a few questions about your son."

"Why is he in isolation?" Walter asked abruptly, coming up to stand next to Paige. Dr. Albanese hesitated as the team gathered around her, but she straightened herself up to her full height and crossed her arms over her chest.

"This is Ralph's family. They can hear whatever I hear."

The doctor nodded acquiescingly and lifted his clipboard, flipping through the sheets of paper attached to it. "Ralph is in isolation because his symptoms suggest that he has been exposed to a toxin. We have to keep him in isolation until we can confirm whether the toxin is airborne, but since no one involved in your son's treatment is displaying similar symptoms, it's more likely that he ingested it."

Paige stared at him blankly for a second. "I'm sorry, are you saying that my son was poisoned?"

"In the simplest terms…yes," he sighed. "But his tox screen was clean, meaning that we're still not sure what's in his system yet. We'll continue to run tests, but it would be helpful if you and anyone else who was with Ralph in the last twenty-four hours could retrace his steps. Write down everything that he ate and drank, as well as every location he visited. It could help us to narrow down what we're searching for."

* * *

"Do you think this was an accident?" Paige murmured as she ran her thumb over the back of Ralph's clammy hand. Dr. Albanese told them that he needed to rest and encouraged no more than two visitors to be in the room at one time. After they'd finished the list, Toby came in with her to examine her son and offer a second opinion. But he left quickly, knowing who Paige really needed by her side.

"Seventy-nine percent of all poisonings are unintentional," Walter answered quickly, grateful for once that the statistics were on their side and he didn't have to sugarcoat the facts for Paige. "And eight-five percent of cases have minor or no lasting effects."

She swallowed, her eyes not breaking from her son. "But he's not getting better."

That was a point he couldn't argue. Ralph was a ghostly shade of white, much paler than he'd been earlier that day, and his pulse was well below normal levels, thought at least still strong enough to be found. The doctors had hooked him up to IV drip to replace the fluids he lost as he vomited in the ambulance and the hospital. But they'd officially cleared the possibility of Ralph carrying a contagion, so Walter and Paige were able to visit him without wearing protective gear. "No."

This had started out as a good day. They were celebrating a milestone in Ralph's life, as…Walter hesitated to say as a family, but he didn't have a more adequate term for it. And now the genius and the liaison were anxious for a far different reason, watching Ralph's health deteriorate while they were powerless to stop it.

"But it's only been a few hours," he offered in a tone that he hoped sounded more positive than he felt. "If the doctors can identify what Ralph ingested, then it will simply be a matter of giving him the correct antidote."

"If?" The uncertainly in Paige's eyes grew more pronounced, and Walter knew instantly that he'd slipped. His answer to every situation had always been to rely on the science, but Paige needed more from him right now.

"When," he corrected, clearing his throat. It almost felt like a lie—there was no guarantee that the doctors would be able to identify the poison, out of thousands of possibilities—but the way Paige's shoulders relaxed slightly convinced him that he'd made the appropriate decision.

Despite Ralph only having been in the hospital upwards of three hours, Walter could see the toll it took on Paige. Dark circles were forming under her eyes, as though she hadn't slept in days, and she was refusing to eat or drink. The frustration of uncertainty and being unable to help were affecting her as much as they affected him. Toby was putting his medical knowledge together with Sylvester's eidetic memory to assist the doctors, but this wasn't Walter's area of expertise and he knew that, for perhaps the first time in his life, he would be of more use in an emotional capacity.

"I don't understand," she said softly, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Ralph seemed fine when he was giving his speech. How did this happen so suddenly?"

Walter dropped his hands in his lap, wringing his fingers together. "Most likely the, uh, adrenaline of being in front of a crowd masked his symptoms. He may not have felt that anything was out of the ordinary immediately before or during the speech…it was only when the urgency had passed that his body succumbed to the effects."

"I should have…I should have listened to him. I should have known that something was wrong. I never should have taken him to that stupid ceremony." The genius opened his mouth to contradict her, but Paige help up her hand to stop him, her voice cracking with every word. "No, Walter, I'm his mother. I know everything about him, how could I…how could I not have known this?"

He stayed silent for a moment, having learned long ago that saying the first thing that came to his mind often lead to disaster. But he was saved from searching for a response when Dr. Albanese appeared at the door and waved for them to join him in the hallway. Paige leaned down and kissed Ralph's hand before letting go and vacating her seat for the first time in hours.

Cabe and the other geniuses were already in position, shooting sympathetic looks at Paige but saying nothing. Happy wordlessly handed the liaison a cup of coffee, which she accepted without drinking. "You have news about Ralph?"

The doctor focused his attention on the mother, whose early vitriol was replaced by what the geniuses recognized as numbness. It was, very likely, the only way she could keep herself together while Ralph was still in danger.

"Your colleagues and I consulted with my contact at the CDC. We pinpointed several potential toxins that we then screened Ralph for. One was the poison found in rhododendrons, after we realized that your son had eaten honey this morning."

Paige clutched the cup tighter in her hands, but her face remained passive. "What does that mean?"

Toby spoke up from his position halfway between her and the doctor. "Honey made from bees that have fed on rhododendrons is poisonous. There are a wide range of side effects, but it can cause nausea, slow pulse, vomiting, and seizures. The symptoms usually present themselves about six hours after ingestion."

"So it was just an accident, then?" There was a hopeful inflection in Paige's voice, but it faltered when the doctor's eyes dropped swiftly back to his chart.

"This is where it becomes…a bit more complicated," Dr. Albanese offered in a much less clinical tone than the one he'd greeted them with earlier. It was clear that he wasn't preparing to deliver good news. "The amount in Ralph's system is easily seven or eight times any accidental dose that I've seen, which means that it was most likely intentional. The majority of intentional poisonings are self-inflicted…" Paige narrowed her eyes at him, but he hurried on before she had a chance to set him straight, "…but based on the account that Mr. Dodd provided, that does not seem to be the case."

He motioned for Sylvester to contribute, and the mathematician nervously shuffled to the front of the group. "Um, Ralph and I were eating breakfast together in the garage this morning. He was making oatmeal and found a bottle of honey in the cabinet. It didn't look familiar to me, but I assume you'd bought it. I'm sorry, Paige."

The liaison chewed her lip, silent and deep in thought. Knowing that Paige was too distracted to fulfill her usual role, Happy leaned over and whispered to Sly that it wasn't his fault, which appeared to calm him.

"It could have happened to anyone on the team," Cabe said gently, but Paige snapped out of her daze and shook her head.

"No, it couldn't have," she said firmly, her eyes still not meeting the team's. "Ralph eats the same thing every morning. Oatmeal with honey. We were out and I was going to pick some up tonight." Paige's breath caught in her throat as she added, "Someone knew Ralph's habits. They targeted my son."

Walter had been quiet up to that moment, absorbing the information provided and piecing it together in his mind. But he had an almost biological response to the distress in her voice, and his hand reached out to rest on her lower back. He could feel her heart racing through every part of her body.

"Can you treat him here?" he asked. Paige needed time to process this turn of events, and Walter sensed that she was starting to shut down; a situation he was uniquely qualified to handle. "What does he need?"

Dr. Albanese exchanged a reluctant glance with Toby before focusing his attention back to Walter and Paige. "Typically, we carry the antidote to treat accidental exposure. But with Ralph's dosage…we just don't have enough on hand. The nearest lab that does is six hours away. We're having it flown in, but given the rapid progression of symptoms, there's a possibility that six hours may not be enough time to avoid permanent damage."

Walter felt his own heartbeat increase. "What kind of permanent damage?" he asked evenly, not wanting his concern to create further stress for Paige.

"I'd like to be as transparent as I can here." He looked to the team, seeking their approval, and they nodded collectively for him to continue. "The worst case scenario for this type of poison is a coma or death. It's rare, but factoring in Ralph's age, and the high dosage he received…it's significantly more likely."

Everybody noticed when Sylvester refrained from offering the concrete statistics. No one wanted or needed to hear them.

Paige was the first to pierce the heavy silence. "I need a minute," she muttered, Walter's hand sliding from the small of her back as she pulled away from the team and disappeared around the corner into another hallway. Toby noticed the unspoken question in Walter's eyes and nodded.

"It's okay. Let her go."

Dr. Albanese excused himself as well, but as he returned to the nurses' station Walter could hear him directing a young woman with red hair to record Ralph's vitals and change his IV bag. None of the geniuses said a word as they sipped their lukewarm coffee, until Happy loudly cleared her throat.

"Let's just tranquilize the elephant in the room, guys." The mechanic took the last swig from her cup and arced it into the garbage can. "You know damn well who did this, Walter. We all do."

He didn't know. He only suspected. Scorpion had put quite a few criminals in prison since they started working with Homeland, but Walter only knew one man who wanted revenge so badly that he would threaten the life of a child to get it. Only one man who studied the team, knew their habits, made a puzzle out of it instead of blowing up the garage like any run-of-the-mill terrorist or thief might have done.

Walter remembered Paige's reaction vividly when Cabe informed them Collins was missing. Or, rather, his body was. The genius was certain that he witnessed Mark take his own life, but if his scientific experiments had taught him anything, it was that the world went far beyond what the human eye could see.

Paige moved past their ordeal admirably, but she still had nightmares, much like he did. Dreams that Cabe didn't show up on time, and Collins shot them both instead. Or that Paige had accepted Mark's deal and vanished without a word, removing her and Ralph from Walter's life permanently.

She took the brunt of Mark's anger. He manipulated her, twisted her mind until she doubted everything she was sure of. Paige didn't have to tell him how unsettling that was. Walter had experienced it firsthand. She put on a brave front when she learned that Collins's status as 'deceased' was more flexible than they'd hoped, but Walter could tell that part of her was always on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. They hadn't talked about it much since; there was always another case, another project, another step toward forgetting it happened at all.

Until now.

"We don't even know if he's alive," Walter insisted, but Happy picked up on his lack of confidence and scoffed.

"Cut the crap, Walt, of course he's alive." Happy rolled her eyes. "That man is too in love with his own intelligence to kill himself. Collins changed the game and he won. He stayed out of prison and made you question yourself, _again_. But he won't stay down until he gets what he wants."

The genius leaned his weight against the wall, feeling suddenly drained. He'd have to tell Paige of their suspicions, of course, but he wasn't sure he had enough courage to do it. He wouldn't only be dredging up memories of her captivity; he also risked reminding her of the harsh things he'd said to protect her, and he fretted about the wedge that might drive between them.

But Ralph was more important than anything he could sacrifice.

"Have you ever known Collins to use poison before?" Cabe asked. "Do you have any idea what his MO might be?"

"He tried to poison Walter once," Happy offered, her voice dripping with disdain.

"Technically, he injected me with a serum that he believed would improve my brain function. I agreed to it," Walter rebutted, but the memory did make him shudder. Collins had always appealed to his pride, his megalomania, his obsession with having all the answers. It had led them both onto some fairly dark paths.

She matched Walter's scowl with one of her own. "Collins told you that you agreed to it. You were down the rabbit hole then, who knows what the hell you actually said?"

He had to concede on that point. His memories of the event were incomplete…just flashes, mostly, which had been quite typical when he was under. But it seemed like something he would do, and Walter had never questioned Mark's story. "It's been three months since…" He pressed his lips together. "Why would he wait to make his move?"

Sylvester raised his hand, and Happy motioned impatiently for him to speak. "Because we weren't looking," he noted in a shaky voice. Collins terrified him, and unlike many of his phobias, that one was rooted in experience and fully justified. "When he went missing, we were all on high alert, remember? He had to wait for our guard to drop."

The mathematician was right. And it was Walter's fault. He continually believed that he was finished with Collins. He had wrapped himself up in Paige and Ralph, in enjoying the new routine he was building with them, and failed spectacularly in his pledge to keep them safe.

A hush fell over the team, and Walter lifted his eyes to see the liaison walking toward them. Everyone seemed to scatter in different directions, leaving the two of them, and she took a straight path to Ralph's room with the genius right behind her.

"Paige?" he asked lightly as she dropped back into her chair, unsure of how to phrase his question. She was staring intently at her son, still sleeping peacefully but far from the happy, healthy kid they were used to seeing.

She combed her hand through her hand, brushing her bangs out of her face. "It's him, isn't it? Collins?"

Walter fell speechless for a moment, surprised. He'd felt his resolve to tell her faltering from the second she reappeared, but Paige was an intelligent woman and she likely suspected Collins for all the same reasons he did. "I don't know." That was the truth…or most of it, anyway.

Paige dropped her hand and sighed. "I saw your faces. How quickly you shut up when I came back. Don't try to protect me, Walter. As I recall, it didn't work out so well last time."

He felt a pang of guilt spike through his chest—the same sensation he always attached to memories of that day. Paige never brought it up, but the words he couldn't forget saying would always haunt him.

_I_ _used_ _you, Paige. I used you as an experiment and I apologize for that. But as much as I tried, it was never real._

No more lying. That was what he'd decided on that drive home from the hospital, when they admitted the truth about their feelings for each other. Honesty was the only way they would survive.

"Okay." Walter lowered into other chair, angling his body to face her. She kept her focus on Ralph, but he knew she was listening. "If Collins is behind this, he'll reach out. Or he'll let us find him. But until then, we can't, uh, we can't know for sure."

She nodded, raw determination in her eyes.

"Does he want to kill Ralph?"

Walter's mouth went dry at the thought. He'd always known that he had a special affinity for Ralph. But he suddenly realized how thoroughly devastating the idea of losing him seemed.

He forced himself not to follow that train of thought too far. "His grudge isn't against Ralph. It's against us." Walter let out a deep breath. "He may be trying to hurt us through Ralph, but knowing Collins, it's more likely that this is all part of a larger game."

Paige laid her hand on the bed within an inch of Ralph's, as if any contact might break her son. "If anything happens to him, I won't…"

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Walter didn't want to hear the possibilities. The only circumstance under which he had been able to accept losing Paige and Ralph was when he believed that they could be safe, free, happy. Not like this.

"Paige, look at me." When she hesitated, Walter placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head, bringing her tired eyes to his. "I will never let that happen. Do you understand?"

It was like someone flipped a switch, and all of the walls that she had built up to protect herself crumbled at once. The armrests of their chairs created a barrier between them, but that didn't stop Paige from sinking into him, trembling as her sobs soaked through his shirt. And after three years of working with Paige, and three months of dating her, Walter knew exactly what she would do in this situation. He wrapped his arms around her back and let her cry.


	3. Focus

"I know that look."

Walter straightened up in his seat. He'd finally convinced Paige to get some sleep, promising to wake her with the slightest bit of news. But now she was watching him, her head resting on her palm as she leaned her weight onto the armrest of her chair. She reached her other hand up to rub at her eyes.

He frowned. "What look?"

"That look, like…like you know something," Paige said softly, her voice a little thicker than usual. Walter knew what she was going to say before she said it. "You've figured out what he's planning, haven't you?"

The genius sighed, diverting his attention from her to her son. Ralph was stable, for now, but Dr. Albanese had advised them that his condition could change at any moment and without warning. For now, Walter focused on the steady, rhythmic beating on the heart monitor that reassured him the young genius was still fighting. "We haven't confirmed it's him."

"I know you, Walter. You at least have a theory."

"Sharing a theory without conclusive evidence is—."

"Walter," she said firmly, drawing his attention back to her. Now that the initial wave of shock and emotion had run its course, Paige sounded stronger. And he couldn't get anything past her when she was focused like this. "We agreed that you would stop keeping things from me."

Feeling too restless to sit, the genius pushed his chair away from Ralph's bed and stood. He could hear the bones cracking in his legs and back and realized it had been at least thirty minutes since he'd moved last.

It must have been half an hour, then, since the team had called to give him an update. Walter knew he should be with Toby and Happy, working on locating another source of the antidote, or tracking down Collins with Cabe and Sylvester. But they had insisted he stay at the hospital, and every time he saw a flash of grief flicker over Paige's face, he know he wouldn't be able to leave her. So he devoted his time instead to compiling a list of any location he'd ever visited or discussed with Collins, reviewing the footage in his head of the thousands of conversations that he could remember clearly.

The genius found himself on the other side of the bed from Paige, not having paid much attention to where he was walking. He crossed his arms in front of him and shuffled awkwardly, his eyes flickering erratically between her and the floor. "We, uh, we know what Collins wants. For me to…t-to lose you." Walter could barely get the words out as his throat tightened at the thought. "Both of you. He thought you would abandon the team to save yourself, but that, uh, that plan was unsuccessful."

Paige gave him a weary nod. 'Unsuccessful' didn't even begin to cover the events of that day. It still weighed heavily on both of them, and they'd barely had time to come to terms with it before Collins plunged them in chaos again.

"It's not, uh, uncommon…" His voice faltered, and Walter forced himself to spit out the rest of his theory even if it meant he had to avoid meeting her gaze. "For couples to separate when they lose a child. I know that Ralph isn't our child, or, um, my child, but he's…he's a substantial part of both of our lives, and…"

"I understand, Walter," Paige said gently, saving himself from finishing his sentence. He heard her chair drag across the floor as she got up, standing level with him on opposite sides of Ralph. "What I don't understand is why Collins would think this time is different. I didn't leave before and I'm not going to leave now."

The genius's eyes squeezed shut. The facts of the case were becoming jumbled with his feelings, his fears, his uncertainty, and the combination was overwhelming. "It's not that simple," he rebutted, willing himself to focus. He couldn't afford to be this distracted right now. "Mark is an expert in human psychology. Better than Toby. He knows h-how to turn people against each other. If he has a bigger plan, that's likely his end game."

Paige knitted her eyebrows, her hands reaching out to grasp the railing on Ralph's bed. "And I'm telling you that he's already tried that, so unless there's something else you're omitting, then—."

"This is different, Paige," he blurted out, and something in his tone ended her protest. His entire body felt like it was shaking. Walter wanted to bolt out of the hospital, find somewhere he could breathe and think straight, but he knew he would hate himself for running. "If the team can't save Ralph, all you'll ever see are the people who let your son die. You would never…you wouldn't be able to look at us, at me, the same way again. And I wouldn't blame you. It's a nearly inevitable psychological response."

Losing Paige was just as unfathomable a concept as losing Ralph. Losing them both…Walter's life would never be the same.

Guilt rippled through him. He should be doing more, should be tearing California apart looking for a way to save the young genius, but he couldn't get his head together, and he was going to lose everything. Walter suddenly felt like the air had been knocked out of him. There didn't seem to be any right answer. If there was something he could have done with the team and he wasn't there, it would haunt him. And if anything happened to Ralph and Paige had to face it alone, he'd never forgive himself for that either.

"Stop, Walter," she breathed, reading the conflict on his face easily. "I would never put that kind of blame on you. Collins got to Ralph twice, right under my nose. He's my son. My responsibility. It was…" her breath hitched slightly, "my decision to stay when Collins threatened us. I accept the consequences of that."

Watching Paige blame herself for her son's condition didn't feel any better than blaming himself. "I should have tried harder," he muttered, dragging one hand over his face. "I should have made you take the deal, and when we were sure Collins was gone I could have looked for you—."

"Don't focus on the past." In what seemed like two steps, Paige was standing in front of him with her hands resting on his shoulders. His remorse pushed him to move away, but he didn't, knowing that despite what she said or thought, the odds were high that their relationship would be irrevocably changed within a few hours. "It won't accomplish anything. Let it go. Focus on what's happening right now."

Even with everything they cared about in jeopardy, the strength Walter drew from her was incomprehensible. He closed his eyes again, focusing on her presence, inhaling and exhaling deeply until his heart rate was back under control. The panic that clouded his mind started to subside, and within minutes, the absurdly simple clue he had been missing presented itself.

"I have to go," Walter said apologetically, but Paige was smiling.

"I figured." Her hands traveled up his neck and landed on his face, her thumb stroking his cheek briefly. The genius tried to memorize that look in her eyes—what he now recognized as love—knowing that it could, for many reasons, be the last time he ever saw it. "Do whatever you need to do, Walter. Just please be careful."

* * *

Walter jumped behind the wheel of his car, grateful that Cabe had the foresight to leave it in the parking lot. He'd barely started the engine when he instructed the Bluetooth to call Sylvester and waited impatiently for him to pick up.

"Walter?" the mathematician said nervously. "If you're calling for an update, we haven't—."

"Sly, I need you to come to the hospital," he interrupted, figuring this was an acceptable occasion to skip the social niceties. "There's something I have to take care of, but I don't want to leave Paige alone. You understand what she's going through. You can comfort her."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Sylvester?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here." The younger genius let out a deep breath. "What about Collins?"

"I'll take care of Collins, just do what I'm asking." Walter paused before adding, "Please, Sly. I can't focus unless I know someone is there with her."

"Okay. What are you going to do?"

"I'll tell you if it works." He pressed a button to end the call and dropped his head back against the seat. It needed to work. He was running out of options.

* * *

Walter was at the garage in ten minutes, having broken just about every traffic law that existed or ever would exist. He parked crookedly in the alley, shoving the gear stick into park and slamming the door shut behind him.

Deputy Director Cooper had given Scorpion off-the-books access to certain resources, and Walter was grateful that the rest of the team was working from Homeland's offices. This, he had to do alone.

The kitchen. Surely there were other locations, but that was the only one Walter could be sure of. Collins knew Ralph's routine, knew to put that honey in the cabinet and when, and there was only one safe way to learn that information without exposing himself. The genius wondered how long the surveillance equipment had been in place. Weeks? Months? Before he and Paige were abducted the first time? The garage had to be wired for audio, at least, if not video as well.

He dropped his keys with a thud on the counter, his eyes darting around to look for a camera, but it would take him hours to find it, so he settled on a more efficient solution.

"You son of a bitch, Collins," Walter yelled, ensuring that his former partner could hear him loud and clear. "You want me, I'm right here. You're in control, that's what you want me to say, isn't it? Fine, you're in control. I'm ready to discuss your terms."

His shouts echoed around the garage before fading out in the empty space. Walter wondered if he had finally snapped and was simply a crazed person screaming desperately at no one. He dropped his head into his palms and grasped at his hair, the adrenaline draining from his body and making him acutely aware of his exhaustion.

The phone rang.


	4. Ghosts

Sylvester was sick of hospitals.

He'd never enjoyed them, of course. They represented twenty-seven of his forty-three severe phobias, and all the hand sanitizer in the world did nothing to combat their inherent terror. But that was how much he had loved Megan, to spend weeks—months—by her side, braving the toxic atmosphere. She made it easy, knew just what to say to calm him down. She made it worth it.

And now Ralph—their Ralph—was hanging by a thread, and Sylvester only hoped he might offer Paige half as much comfort as she'd given him. Their situations were not the same, but he could scratch the surface of her feelings. There could be no peace while there was still hope.

Paige blinked when she saw him, clearly lost in her thoughts. "Sly?"

"Hey." The mathematician approached her gently, lowering into the narrow chair beside her. "How is he?"

The distress in her eyes when she looked at her son made Sylvester's chest burn. "Worse," Paige murmured quietly, reaching out to sweep away the bangs that clung to his clammy skin. "I've tried to keep it together, but…I'm scared, Sly."

"Paige, it's going to be okay." He was averse to a great many things, but physical contact was not one of them, which gave him an advantage over the other geniuses in situations like this. Sylvester placed his hand on her upper back and rubbed a soothing circle with his thumb. "Ralph is an incredible kid. A fighter. And you've seen how far Scorpion will go for people we don't even know…we'll never give up on him. He's one of us."

Her shoulders rose and fell as she exhaled deeply. "I know. Walter left like a bat out of hell with some idea in his head. Where did they go?"

Sylvester frowned. "They?"

The liaison blinked, caught off guard by his uncertainty. "Yeah, Walter and the team. Did they tell you what the plan was?"

He hesitated, unsure if he should reveal what he knew, but Paige raised one eyebrow expectantly. Sylvester had already given too much away by his silence, and she wouldn't let it go until she'd drawn it out of him. Might as well save them both the energy. "The team is at Homeland, but Walter…he's not with them."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know," Sylvester confessed, pulling his hand away as Paige's back stiffened. "He told me to come to the hospital and then he didn't answer any of our calls after that." Concern flooded her face, and the genius shook his head. "But I'm sure he's fine, Paige. You know how he gets sucked into things. He's probably researching a—."

"I don't think so." Paige interrupted, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. "I can't explain it, Sly, but something in his face when he left…I thought he'd be okay if the team was with him, but if he went off alone," she glanced nervously at Sylvester, "it usually means he's putting himself in danger."

Sly sighed. "I don't know," he said again, uttering the most frustrating words for any genius to admit. "We'll just have to trust him, okay?"

The statistician needed to keep her mind off Walter. Worrying about both of the men she loved would stretch her too thin. He nodded toward Ralph.

"Have you talked to him?"

Paige bit down on her bottom lip. "A little, but I, um…I don't really know what to say."

That must have been as frustrating for her as not having answers was for him. Sylvester inched his chair closer to the bed, ignoring the discomfort of the stiff plastic armrests. He should have been used to them by now. "Maybe you can tell a story?" he suggested. "I've always wanted to hear about the day Ralph was born."

The liaison nodded slowly. "Okay."

* * *

"You look different."

Collins smirked cockily as he rubbed his clean-shaven face, not missing the way Walter's muscles tensed. That smirk always did get right through to him. "People typically change their appearance when they're in hiding." Mark tugged on a strand of his freshly-dyed black hair for emphasis, twisting it between his fingers. "I hate to fall prey to the clichés, but I understood the necessity."

Walter bit down on the inside of his cheek, searching for some way to channel his rage without carrying out the host of terrible actions his mind was contemplating. Collins was deserving, of course, but violence was a thoroughly ineffective tactic against his former partner's psychopathy. Once again, Walter was exactly where Mark wanted him to be.

Right now, that was a seventeenth-floor office that appeared to have been abandoned during renovations. White tarps loosely draped over the furniture and an abundance of wood dust that irritated Walter's throat made it an ideally dramatic setting for Mark's grand plan. He'd never let the genius near whatever haunted cave he'd been holed up in for three months.

"You're less dead than I expected," Walter said flatly.

Collins grinned. "Shockingly easy, isn't it? I know you've done the same for Sylvester." He shook his finger at Walter. "My only regret is that I didn't get to see your reaction. I'll plan that better next time."

Walter couldn't even say with certainty what his reaction had been. It was a blur…the shots, the blood, the paramedics flying in. The perfect storm of diversions to mask Mark's escape. "Was that your plan all along?"

Collins pressed his lips together as he thought. "More of a plan B, really. Even I'm not capable of getting past a SWAT team alive. Your trauma was…well, let's call it an added bonus."

Under the guise of adjusting his watch, Walter slid two fingers over his wrist to check his pulse. Racing. He needed to find some way to get himself under control before he ruined his best chance at helping Ralph. Not an easy task when Collins was purposefully goading him, but his ego wasn't worth putting his family in any more danger. "You had a clean slate. You could be halfway around the world by now, why would you stay?"

"Really, Walter, it can't be that difficult to grasp." Sensing the man's doubt, Mark rolled his eyes. "Revenge. It's revenge. I keep trying to get it, and you keep ruining it. So I had no choice but to…" he gestured into the air, "branch out."

That sent another bolt of anger through Walter's veins, and it was only Paige's calm voice in his head that steadied him. Ralph was just another piece on the chessboard to Mark, a means to a twisted end. He'd never understand or care how remarkable the child genius truly was. An emotional plea would fall on deaf ears.

Walter had to play his game, and this time he was going to win. His hands dropped to his sides and clenched into fists. "Then get it. I'm standing right here, Collins. Get your revenge."

"You never were a patient person," Mark mused, his lips still curled in that insufferable expression. The effect was magnified without his beard, and Walter wondered how the disgraced genius had never shaved simply to antagonize the team further. "Fortunately, I am. Last time, I was willing to let Paige and Ralph leave safely and live out the rest of their petty lives. I don't plan to be so generous this time."

It was like battling the Hydra; every time Walter defeated Collins, the man came back from the shadows stronger and more vicious, threatening more and more of his world. He'd tried so hard to save Paige before, protect her even if it meant saying goodbye to her and her son for good. And then they were safe, part of his life in a way they'd never been before, and his happiness clouded the reality that Collins would do whatever it took to break them.

There wasn't a trace of doubt in his voice when Walter said, "I know you have the antidote. You need to control the situation. You need a bargaining chip." Collins shrugged and offered a flattered grin, as if Walter was praising him for his extensive preparation. "Tell me how to save Ralph. I know you've got a plan, so let's hear it."

"Testy," Mark muttered loudly, folding his arms in front of him. Even his clothes—a crisp blue button-down shirt and black pants—were different, an oddly close representation of Walter's own wardrobe. Surely that was intentional; Collins did nothing without a purpose, even if it was only clear or logical to him. "The kid's not dead yet, Walt. We have time to catch up."

An ugly fear reared up in him again. Ralph…gone…Walter sucked in a breath with some difficulty. That wasn't a possibility. He wouldn't allow it.

"If anything happens to him, I'm going to kill you," the genius snapped. "The antidote, Collins. Now."

Mark stared at him curiously. Walter rarely resorted to violence, and neither of them could be sure whether it was an idle threat. If he lost Ralph, though, they were both damn sure going to find out.

"This side of you is fascinating," Collins hummed, tapping his finger pensively against his left cheek. "But depressing. I told you to excise the emotion, Walter. If you were using that beautiful brain of yours, you would have solved this puzzle a long time ago and saved your precious prodigy." He cocked his head to the side. "Though I suppose you wouldn't care as much. Humans are peculiar that way, aren't they?"

Walter had spent decades burying his emotions, but there was no world in which Ralph and Paige didn't mean everything to him. They were an inextricable part of him from the day—the second, most likely—he saw them in that pathetic diner. He'd worried in the beginning about the impact that his heightened EQ would have on his intelligence, on his work, but now Walter knew for sure that he would willingly give up his genius to keep them.

Mark clicked his tongue, bringing the other genius's attention back to him. "We had so much left to do, Walter," he said with an artificial hint of sadness. Leaning his weight against the edge of a rickety desk, Collins crossed his ankles and slumped over slightly. "Whatever 'good' you think you've done with Scorpion is nothing compared to the change we could have made in the world. The lives we could have saved—."

"You didn't care about that," Walter hissed, tired of Mark's self-righteous tone. He took a step forward but restrained himself from advancing any further, lest he lose the self-control he was frantically clinging to. "You're incapable of caring about pain or suffering. In fact, you thrived on it. And you brought me down with you."

Collins scoffed, predictably showing no signs of offense. "High horses are for idiots, Walter. I didn't bring you anywhere. You went where you wanted to go." He shot the genius a searching glare, the kind that had always made him feel as if Mark knew him better than he knew himself, though Walter reminded himself that it was just a parlor trick. "Because the truth, which you are so desperately afraid of admitting to yourself, is that you're exhausted. _Caring_ is exhausting. You've spent three long, torturous years trying to become something you're not so you'll be considered worthy of love."

_Don't give in._

Paige admitted that she'd imagined him saying that to her when Mark's manipulation became overwhelming. Walter had a long history of succumbing to it, but perhaps hearing those words, in her voice, would help him too.

_Don't give in._

He didn't answer, so Collins continued almost gleefully. "And what have you gotten out of it? Pain. Heartbreak. Megan's dead, and so is any misguided hope you might have had of a relationship with your parents." Walter's lungs were on fire as he inhaled shallowly, the memory of his sister devastating him all over again. Mark lifted his fingers as if he was counting. "Cabe was an adequate father figure, but you'll lose him. And you will most certainly lose Paige and Ralph. If I had a little more time to wait around, I'd just let nature take its course instead of getting involved. Because you and I both know…" How much he wanted to permanently remove that _damn smirk_ from Mark's face. "That you'll make a mistake. An unforgivable mistake. And the woman you love so much will be gone. She won't look back. Why should she?"

He couldn't deny it. Collins had always been a master at laying his insecurities bare, pressing down on his dreams and fears until Walter was crushed under his thumb.

_Don't give in._

"And do you know why?" Mark asked, obviously delighting in the storm he'd provoked. "Because you weren't meant for this life, Walter. Neither of us were. Accept that and you'll spare yourself a lot of trouble."

Collins was stalling and Walter was growing frustrated with the psychiatric examination. "If you want to work together again, then just say it," he demanded sharply. "You don't need the theatrics. I'll leave with you right now and we can disappear to anywhere in the world. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Walter could accept this. He'd delayed the inevitable once and gotten three more months with the team. Three months to do all the things he should have done before, to watch Ralph grow up, to show Paige how strongly he felt for her. If he could've changed anything, it would have been to tell them that he loved them more often, but he was sure they already knew.

"I'm sorry, Walt, but that door is closed." Mark lifted himself off the desk, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the genius. "I've had a lot to time to think up something a little more interesting. And I have to admit that I'm quite curious to see what you'll do."

He narrowed his eyes, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. "What do you want, Collins?"

"I want you to go back to August 22, 2012," Mark said with a knowing look. Walter's throat tightened. The day he'd had his closest friend committed. Everything started there. Wrong or right, it was a decision Walter could never escape. "Do you remember what you said? As they were taking me away, restrained like some kind of wild animal?"

Of course he remembered. The words still echoed in his mind sometimes, when he was in the garage alone, staring out the window at the exact spot where he betrayed Mark. The rest of the team assured him that he had done the right thing. That his motives were unselfish. He wasn't as sure.

"Say it," Collins hissed. "I want to hear you say it."

"I told you…" his voice faltered and he cleared his throat to reclaim it. "I told you that I didn't have a choice."

Now that Mark was closer, Walter could see that the smarminess in his eyes was replaced with a familiar darkness. The same darkness the genius had witnessed right before Collins shot himself. Walter had a hunch he was about to pull another trigger now.

"'I have no choice.' I thought about those words every day I was in that godforsaken mental hospital. The doctors couldn't possibly comprehend my level of intelligence, so of course they thought I was crazy. But you…" He closed the final bit of space between them and jabbed his finger into Walter's chest. "You should have understood. You knew I wasn't crazy, but you feared me. Feared the parts of yourself that I drew out. The real you."

He'd hated that person. That version of himself was cruel, cold, paranoid. He had constantly felt lost and alone, and if not for the other Scorpion members, his partnership with Collins might have killed him. "I'm sorry," he said earnestly, knowing all the same that his apology would be lost on Mark. "I did what I needed to do."

The man nodded slowly, a slick grin forming on his face. "I had a feeling you would say that." He stepped back from Walter just enough to reach into his pocket, producing a thin glass vial with transparent pink liquid inside. He pressed it into the genius's hand. "Do what you need to do."

Walter's palm tightened around the object, careful not to shatter it with the strength of his grip. "What the hell is this?"

Collins quirked his eyebrow, shoving his hands loosely into his pockets. "I can tell that you already know it's not the antidote. I'm not giving that to you out of the kindness of my heart."

"You don't have one," Walter said bitterly, earning a deep laugh from Mark.

"Don't be hyperbolic. Regardless, I do have what you need to save Ralph. You were right about that."

The genius allowed himself a second of relief, though he knew from experience that whatever was coming next would negate the feeling of hope.

Collins nodded toward Walter's hands, knuckles turning white as he clutched the vial like a lifeline. "If Paige drinks that, the antidote is yours. The boy will survive with no lasting damage, like none of this ever happened."

Walter suddenly felt very, very nauseated. "And what will it do to Paige?"

"Oh, it'll kill her," Mark shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the prospect. "I mean, probably. Poison is unpredictable. But if she doesn't drink it, then Ralph dies. Those are your options."

The first time around, Collins had guaranteed safety for both of them if they just left the team. Walter now realized that was him being merciful. "Don't do this," he begged through gritted teeth. "It doesn't have to be like this."

"You're right. It shouldn't be like this." Collins reached out for Walter's free wrist, and the genius jumped as his nails sank suddenly into the skin, leaving a trail of scrapes and dark red impressions. "But poor little 197 didn't have a choice, right? Well, now I'm giving you one." He threw the hand down. "Choose, Walter. And I would hurry. The clock is ticking."


	5. Trade

_Choose, Walter._

He couldn't.

How could he look Paige in the eye, reveal that she had a chance to save her son and not allow her to take it? But how could he allow her to do it, to play Mark's twisted game and put herself at risk? Walter had once told Paige that never seeing her again would be an acceptable consequence. He'd proven to himself time and time again that was untrue.

There was always the option not to tell her. But if he kept his findings hidden and Ralph suffered, Paige would never forgive him. Even if Walter could battle his guilty conscience and bury the secret, Collins would sure as hell find a way to pit them against each other.

Walter jogged a few steps to catch the elevator and absently thanked the elderly man who'd been holding it for him. His entire body felt strangely numb. The genius had made plenty of decisions in the field that could have saved or ended the lives of his team, and hundreds more. But to prioritize one life over another…he'd never done that. And certainly not with _them_.

He had called Cabe from the car, hoping to get some perspective or reassurance, but the words stuck on his tongue. The agent didn't press him, just assured him that they were leaving Homeland and would arrive at the hospital as soon as possible.

Walter thought about all of his excuses, all the reasons he'd given for why he and Paige couldn't have a successful relationship, and how empty and stupid they seemed now. He was never able to stomach the thought of losing her; whether they were together or not had been immaterial. At least he knew now that, while he'd no doubt have some regrets in the end, lying about his feelings for her would not be one of them.

Walter almost chuckled to himself, but bit his tongue as he glanced over and remembered that he wasn't alone. He gripped his hair with his fingers instead. The stress was clearly getting under his skin.

His mind had been otherwise preoccupied, so he was almost surprised when he found himself at the door of Ralph's room. He'd meant to head straight for the lab, but he took this route subconsciously and there was no turning back as the liaison noticed him in the hallway and shot up quickly.

"Walter," she said with a rush of relief, her arms locked around his neck before he even had time to comprehend that she was approaching him.

He looked over her shoulder to where Sylvester was sitting and nodded appreciatively. The mathematician rose and exited the room quietly to give them privacy while Walter turned his full attention to Paige, rubbing his hand over the middle of her back in small circles.

"You can't just disappear like that," she sighed against his shoulder. He could tell Paige was aiming for sternness, but missing. "I almost had a heart attack when I found out you left without the team."

Walter stiffened at her choice of words, but if Paige noticed, she didn't mention it. His palms traveled lower, to her hips, and he rested his cheek against her temple, inhaling softly, wanting just one more moment like this before everything went to hell for the tenth time that day. "I'm sorry. It was…better that I went alone."

"I'm just glad you're okay." Paige sniffled a bit as she pulled back, and Walter wondered if she had been crying again while he was gone. Now that he thought about it, he realized that Sylvester's face was red and puffy too. "What happened? Where did you go?"

He swallowed and shifted his weight, but Paige gripped his forearms to keep him in place and looked at him questioningly. Walter gently flexed his fingers into her skin, somehow feeling restless and drained all at once. "The team—they should be…"

The genius trailed off, and Paige blinked. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Walter nodded, unsure how to soften the blow. Paige had a gift for delivering bad news, but he was sure even she would be struggling with the information he had.

"It's okay." Sadness colored the usual encouragement in her voice as she rubbed her thumbs over his arms. "My son is sick. Anything that you're trying to protect me from can't be worse than that."

"Yes, it can," Walter mumbled under his breath, but Paige heard and cocked her eyebrows. He wasn't even sure where to start. But she'd told him, once, that he tended to provide facts out of sequence, so he decided he would go back to the beginning. "Collins is alive."

She blanched a little, her grip on him becoming measurably tighter. "How do you…" Paige's eyes widened as realization dawned on her. "You saw him, didn't you? Where? How? Walter, that could have been so dangerous—."

"I'm fine," he interrupted, and it wasn't a complete lie—he was physically unharmed, at least. "I'll tell you everything, Paige, but I need you to stay calm and not make any rash decisions. Do you understand?" She looked at him skeptically, but he used his leverage on her hips to shake her slightly. "Paige, I'm serious."

"Okay, okay," the liaison acquiesced, taking a deep breath to brace herself. Walter preferred to tell the whole team at once, but this was Ralph's life on the line and his mother had the right to decide for him. He supposed it was only right for her to know first.

The facts were aligned in his mind, but Paige's glossy eyes met his and he felt a rush of emotion that clouded his thinking again. He realized, several seconds after the fact, that he'd simply breathed out her name, and she stepped closer. "I can handle it, Walter. Tell me."

He knew she meant it as a comforting gesture, but Walter jumped back abruptly as her hands traveled around his waist. It was too late, though. His strange reaction had tipped her off.

"That's it, isn't it? What you don't want to tell me about." He took another halfhearted step back, but Paige was already there, her hand sliding into his inside pocket and pulling out the vial she'd felt in his jacket. She stared at it. "This isn't—."

"No," he answered quickly, though both of them knew that Walter would never hold back the antidote. He reached out and took the vial from her, assuming it was better if she wasn't in possession of it when he told her the whole story, and slipped it back into his pocket. "Collins wants a trade. Your life for Ralph's," he blurted out, figuring the rest of the details weren't really that crucial anymore. "You're supposed to consume this in exchange for the antidote."

Paige's jaw dropped slightly and her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to process what Walter was telling her. "It's…some kind of poison?" she asked even though she was already pretty clear on the answer.

"If we can figure out what it is, the team can mimic the symptoms without putting you in danger. We can fool Collins, Paige, I just need time—."

"Time? Walter…" The liaison glanced over at her son, releasing a shaky breath. "We don't have that."

"We will, I promise." Walter didn't like making promises; there were far too many variables in any situation to adequately control. But he would have pledged Paige anything right then to keep her from acting impulsively. "I need you to trust me."

Paige looked up at him uncertainly. Walter had never been accused of being perceptive, but he knew exactly what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too.

"Don't," he said simply, leaning forward and resting his hands on her shoulders. "We can beat Collins. We've done it before. I can keep you and Ralph safe."

Walter wished he felt more conviction in those words.

Paige gave him a watery smile and lifted one hand to his face, capturing his lips with hers. Walter was surprised by the intensity of the kiss, but attributed it to her heightened emotional state. He responded with the same strength, feeling her palm grip at the back of his shirt, under his jacket. "Thank you," she said when she pulled away, a little breathless, and then pressed her nose into his cheek.

_You're welcome_ didn't seem like an appropriate response, so Walter disconnected and stared at her for a moment, hoping to communicate what he couldn't achieve verbally. He could have stayed in that position for much longer, but Sylvester popped his head in the room. "Everyone's here."

"Go," Paige said encouragingly, nodding her head toward the door. "I'm going to stay here with Ralph."

"Okay." He glanced over his shoulder at her before he and Sylvester rounded the corner, meeting the team as they came through a set of double doors looking more than a little irked.

The shrink spoke first. "Geez, Walt. You couldn't have called to let us know you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere?"

"Lecture me later. Where is Dr. Albanese?"

Toby shrugged. "What am I, his parole officer?" Walter narrowed his eyes, and the psychologist held up his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, I forgot your panties are in a bunch. Check with the nurses, they'll page him for you."

Cabe slapped the back of Toby's head before striding toward the nurse's station at the opposite end of the hallway. Happy leaned in and muttered, "Alright, what's the deal?"

"I saw Collins." Walter held up his hand as a wave of protests and questions flooded in. "We don't have time. He made a deal with me for Ralph's antidote."

No one besides Toby had ever heard Happy sigh, but the mechanic made a noise of relief and tipped her head back. "Thank God. That helicopter's not getting here for at least another four hours."

Walter stilled and scrunched his forehead, wondering exactly how much he'd missing while he was gone. "The lab was only six hours away."

"Their chopper got caught in a storm. We've planned another route for them to transport the antidote, but it's pushing our time frame," Happy explained, her temporary joy replaced by concern at the rapidly changing expression on Walter's face. "Paige didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Maybe she didn't want to worry you," Sylvester offered.

It usually took less time for Walter to connect the facts. "Or she didn't want me to know how desperate she was," he muttered, reaching inside his pocket to find what he instinctively already knew was gone. He patted along the outside of his jacket and searched the other side for good measure, coming up empty. "Damnit!"

Walter spun on his heel and took off down the hallway, the rest of the geniuses shooting each other confused glances before they sped after him. He turned the corner and nearly slid into Paige's room, stopping abruptly when he saw her sitting in a chair and stroking Ralph's forehead.

The liaison extended her other arm to him and opened her palm, exposing the empty vial. "Here."

Walter passed it to Happy, who took off immediately, needing no instruction. Toby muscled into the room and pulled the second chair up next to Paige, testing her pulse and checking her eyes for discoloration. She sat in blank silence until Toby finished his examination and allowed room for Walter to drop to his knees in front of her.

"Paige," the genius murmured, reaching up tentatively to brush away hair that had fallen into her eyes. "I…"

"I trust you," the liaison interrupted, her gaze a little hazy but still lucid. "I just couldn't risk it."

Walter curled his hand behind her neck, his breath hitching as he felt how clammy her skin was. His other palm rested on her waist, where her heartbeat was pulsing rapidly. "You'll be okay, Paige," he said without confidence, hoping she didn't notice but knowing that she would. "I'll find a way to fix this. We have options to—."

Paige shushed him, cracking a faint smile as she reached up to touch his cheek. "Just save Ralph," she whispered, her breathing shallow. "And don't blame yourself if you can't help me. This was my choice. You would have done the same thing."

He supposed he couldn't argue that point, considering how often he'd put his life in danger for them without a second thought. Paige swayed slightly in his arms, and he tightened his grip on her, reaching behind him to frantically push the call button again. Their slow response time must have been due to an emergency elsewhere in the hospital.

Walter had never felt more failed by his intelligence. How reckless was he to bring the poison here instead of straight to the lab? How stupid was he to meet with Collins at all, knowing that nothing but misery and suffering ever followed his old partner? He'd been blinded by his quest to help Ralph and now Paige was paying the price.

"Greater good, Walter. The world needs Ralph much more than it needs me," Paige murmured, and shook her head as he started to protest. "I love you."

He was so focused on her that he didn't quite acknowledge the medical staff that had flooded the room until Toby pulled him up and away from the chair. Walter wanted to say it back—to tell her why she was wrong, and the world needed her, _he_ needed her—but as the doctors moved her to a gurney and rushed her out of the room and Toby restrained Walter to keep him from chasing after her, he wondered if he would ever get the chance.


	6. Pages

"Toby, let me go!" Walter wrenched his arm violently out of the shrink's grasp, but Toby recaptured it easily and yanked him back from the door. He'd always been able to take Toby before, and he wasn't sure if it was the psychologist's newfound dedication to physical fitness or his own desperation that was making him lose this fight. Walter strained against Toby again, angling until he managed to elbow Toby's chest and feeling a hint of surprise when the shrink didn't complain about the state of his internal organs. "Let me go, I need to—."

Toby breathed a sigh of relief as Cabe rushed in the door and instinctively moved toward the Scorpion leader, grabbing him by his shoulders. Toby loosened his grip slightly and they waited until Walter calculated the minimal odds of making it past them and started to slump backwards, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

He and the agent lowered Walter into Paige's empty chair, blocking him on either side in case he tried to run again. "There's nothing you can do," Toby said calmly, but the words tasted bitter on his tongue. He wished they weren't true. "Paige will get gastric lavage just like Ralph did. Depending on the spread of the poison she took, it may help her. You need to let the doctors work."

Walter turned his head and blinked at Toby, as if the words weren't penetrating. They'd both had some problems trusting normals in authority before, to say the least, but after spending time with the hospital staff working to save Ralph, Toby knew Paige would be in good hands.

"Are you okay?" Cabe asked gently, squeezing the genius's shoulder. No answer.

He and Toby exchanged concerned glances. Walter's ability to stay calm and focused under pressure was unparalleled. Neither of them had either seen him like this before. Toby had a hunch he was experiencing shock, similar to his reaction toward Megan's death.

Toby wasn't going to let Walter lose another person he loved.

"Just breathe," Toby encouraged him, relieved to find from a quick check of his wrist that Walter's pulse was gradually slowing. "The sooner you recover, the sooner we can figure this out as a team. Alright?"

Walter responded with a vacant nod, which Toby took as progress.

"Excuse me?" The three men looked up in unison to see the same young, redheaded nurse that had been assisting Dr. Albanese earlier standing in the door. She looked slightly nervous, but cleared her throat and motioned to a cadre of hospital employees wearing white protective suits. "We need to clear this room of any potential hazards. And you'll all need to come with me for a thorough examination."

"We're not sick," Toby rebutted, turning his attention away from her. "The toxin wasn't airborne, it was ingested. We had no contact with it."

The nurse frowned. "It's hospital policy, sir. I have the authority to place you in quarantine, so I suggest that you come willingly."

Toby opened his mouth, unsure himself of what was going to come out, but the agent shook his head and held up a hand to stop him. "Come on, doc. It's alright." Cabe glanced over to the nurse. "What about Ralph?"

"We'll move him to another area if we suspect there's an issue with the room. If that happens, the doctor will let you know where he's been taken."

"Okay. Thank you." Cabe reached out to help Walter up, but the genius grumbled and righted himself on his own, still not making eye contact. Toby walked closely behind him, ready to act if he decided to lash out, but the fight seemed to have drained out of him. The shrink smiled weakly as he saw Happy waiting for him, taking the hand she offered as they made their way down the corridor.

* * *

"I want to see her."

Cabe's head snapped up. Walter hadn't spoken in over an hour, aside from a few grunted answers to the doctor's yes or no questions. The agent had demanded to receive the exam alongside Walter, worried his state of mind might force him to act recklessly as everyone seemed to be doing today.

_That's not a good idea, kid._ After his examination, Toby and Happy had checked in with the doctors and called Cabe with an update. Paige was unconscious and a myriad of tests were being run on her to determine the type of poison, without much luck.

But one glance at the genius, eyes dark and mouth pressed in a thin line, convinced Cabe that Walter probably couldn't be broken any more than he already was. "I'll see what I can do."

He stepped into the hallway, reaching for his phone to make what seemed like his thousandth call of this endless day, when a familiar name on the intercom caught his attention. _Ralph Dineen._ He almost believed he was imagining it, but a quick look over to Walter confirmed that he'd heard it too.

The genius hopped off the exam table—the doctor had cleared them both, anyway, and only stepped out to retrieve some paperwork—and barely restrained himself from breaking into a run as they headed toward Ralph's wing. The voice on the intercom had been calling for the young boy's family to report to his room, and Cabe knew that meant there had been a change in his condition. Whether it meant that Ralph was—well, he couldn't think about that right now.

Walter stopped just outside the door, rare uncertainty striking his features. If anything had happened to Ralph, especially when Walter wasn't there with him…if Paige's sacrifice had been for nothing…then Cabe was wrong. He'd be broken beyond repair. The agent placed his hand on Walter's back, gently urging him forward and attempting to provide reassurance in the face of a possibility neither of them were prepared for.

"Walter?" Ralph's groggy voice echoed as soon as they stepped in, prompting a strangled laugh from the genius. Ralph was propped up in a half-seated position by a row of pillows, his blanket tangled around his waist, and Walter reached out to grab his left hand before dropping down on the bed to face him.

"Hey, bud." Walter brushed the hair out of Ralph's eyes like he'd watched Paige do a million times, smiling at the hints of color returning to the boy's skin. "You're okay?"

"He's recovering," Dr. Albanese offered from the other side of the room. Walter had barely noticed him standing there. "Incredibly. He'll need to rest, and we're going to monitor him closely, but his vitals are excellent."

Walter gripped Ralph's hand tighter, placing his other palm over it. His touch phobia had never been as intense with the young genius—someone who understood—but now, Walter felt like Ralph might disappear if he let go. "Will there be any long-term effects?"

"Only time will determine that, but so far, we haven't seen anything to suggest permanent damage."

Cabe nodded respectfully, and the doctor excused himself to check on results for some test or other—Walter had stopped listening. The agent pulled up a chair, getting as close to Ralph's bed as he could without displacing the two geniuses. "You are a sight for sore eyes, kid."

Ralph grinned.

The older man's expression grew more somber and he clasped his hands on the mattress, just next to Ralph. "What do you remember? After you—."

He trailed off, but the boy shrugged and said, "The doctor explained what happened. I remember giving the speech at my graduation, and then I woke up and there was a nurse examining me. I can't recall anything between those events." Seeing Walter's frown, Ralph furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm sorry."

"No, Ralph, you have nothing to be sorry about." Walter affected a false smile, patting his hand. "You did great. Your mom will be proud." He froze immediately, the last word cracking before it was even out of his mouth.

In Walter's long, storied history of saying the wrong thing, he'd never let anything so idiotic to slip out, and dread built up in his chest as Ralph looked at him curiously. "Where is my mom?"

* * *

Walter was tired. He'd always enjoyed a fairly standard level of energy—perhaps higher than the norm—and the adrenaline he experienced during cases or projects often propelled him forward until he was able to rest. But the fatigue that overtook him now spread through his muscles, made him sluggish and weak and hazy. He hated the feeling.

"Security camera footage showed one of the men who came to clear the room injecting a syringe into Ralph's IV line," Cabe said evenly as they stared through the double glass doors side-by-side. "He was wearing protective gear, so…"

Walter sighed. "So Collins was standing five feet from us and we didn't even know." Maybe Mark had been right. He always seemed to be a step behind his former partner, just barely picking up the shattered pieces of his life before Collins crashed into it again. "Was the nurse an accomplice?"

"She's being questioned, but it doesn't seem like she knew anything." Cabe cleared his throat, choosing his next words carefully. "Frankly, I'm…surprised that he followed through. Giving Ralph the antidote."

"Every game needs rules. If Collins doesn't play by them, he knows I'll have no reason to either."

Walter may have debated his decision to have Collins committed, but if Mark's idea of a "game" was pushing a child to the brink of death, Cabe was confident that the disgraced genius deserved a far worse fate. "Ralph's gonna be okay. He believes in Paige. He knows Scorpion never fails."

The genius stiffened again. There was a time he believed that. Lately, though, it felt like all he'd been doing was failing. "Do you think we should have told him…"

"That she did it for him?" Cabe finished, and Walter nodded in silent agreement. "No. If she wants to tell him when she wakes up, that's her decision."

He scoffed. _When_ she woke up. Cabe seemed so certain. It was like they weren't even looking at the same woman, her body limp against sheets that were only a shade lighter than her skin. The doctors had assured him that she passed out quickly and didn't appear to be in pain. He supposed there was a mild amount of comfort in that.

"Hey," Cabe interjected, sensing his doubt. "Paige had faith the team could help her. You should too."

"I should be with them."

The agent rolled his eyes. Happy had volunteered to stay with Ralph while Toby and Sylvester went to the library to get a stronger wireless signal and continue their search in the CDC's databases for a toxin that matched Paige's symptoms. The list was extensive, though, even assuming that Collins hadn't created his own formula. All they knew for sure was that it didn't match the rhododendron poison Ralph had ingested.

"Sylvester will memorize that entire list before you can open your laptop. You want to try and compete with that?" Cabe cracked, receiving an unamused glare from Walter. "I told you, son, you should be here with Paige and Ralph. They need you."

"Paige is unconscious. She doesn't know I'm here." He'd tried to say it matter-of-factly, but Cabe heard the bitterness underneath the words.

"You don't know that."

"Actually, I do. The brain starts to—."

"I get it, Walter." Cabe knew that, deep down, Walter was starting to accept he didn't understand every force in the universe. His love for the liaison and her son clearly played a part in that. But if facts would help Walter keep it together when his world was crumbling, Cabe could respect that, just this once. "But it doesn't change the fact that you need to be here. Just like you needed to be here with her when she was awake."

Walter offered no response, but he didn't protest, either. They watched the nurses draw another vial of blood from Paige's arm and change out the bags of fluid connected to her IV before Cabe said, "Why aren't you in there?"

"You and Toby made it very clear that I need to stay out of the doctors' way," Walter groused dryly, but it was obvious that Cabe saw through his transparent excuse.

The agent leaned his weight against the wall and crossed his arms, feeling about as drained as Walter looked. "I hated being at my daughter's bedside, you know. When she was sick." Walter shifted toward him, attention piqued. Cabe rarely spoke about Amanda, though Walter was sure he thought about her frequently. "I hated feeling helpless, seeing her like that, knowing there was nothing I could do. Rebecca made me stay. And as much as it tore me up to be there, I'm glad I don't have the regret of letting my daughter suffer alone."

The genius turned away, knowing that Cabe would be embarrassed by his thickened voice and the unshed tears in his eyes. Time had eased the pain of those memories, but it would never disappear completely.

"It's my turn to make you stay. You need to help her fight, Walter." Cabe shot him a pointed look. "She had every reason to give up on you three months ago, and she didn't. So don't you dare give up on her."

* * *

For several long moments, as he sat by Paige with his elbows resting on his legs and his chin propped up on his fists, Walter didn't speak. It was illogical to think that the wrong words could cause her condition to decline further, or that the right words would magically bring her back to him, but the pressure of either prospect kept him mired in silence.

He'd seen Paige injured before. Scorpion's missions carried inherent risk, and even when Paige was battered and bruised, and his stomach was secretly twisted in knots because he couldn't protect her from all danger—no matter how hard he tried—she would smile casually and assure him that she was fine, the marks would heal and everything would go back to normal. But she couldn't reassure him now, and no matter how much the team tried to comfort him, nothing compared to hearing the words from her.

And this wasn't one of Scorpion's missions. It didn't serve the greater good. It was the price for Walter's fear, for his arrogance, for falling in love when he'd never be able to offer anyone a stable life, and he wasn't sure he would forgive himself for that.

"I'm sorry," he said, the sound catching in his throat. Walter understood why Paige had been so hesitant about touching Ralph earlier—as much as he wanted to reach out to her, it would be impossible to feel her cold skin and pretend that she wasn't slipping away right in front of him. "You taught me to save everybody, and I have, but you…" he swallowed, "I keep losing you in the process. It's the people closest to me that I can't protect. You, and…and Ralph, and Megan. I don't know why. I don't understand the point of fighting so hard to save the world if I'm going to lose you."

There was a split second in which Walter almost expected Paige to respond, to chastise him like she always did when he was wallowing in self-pity. But the only sound in the room was the slightly irregular beeping on her heart monitor, and Walter reprimanded himself for his own blind hopefulness.

"There's a lot that I haven't told you yet. About…about the past. Why I pushed you away for so long. I regret that now." He dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his strained, stinging eyes. "And I had plans for the future, Paige. I—," he stopped and corrected himself, "I have plans for the future. For us. And Ralph. Just because we were taking it slow doesn't mean that I wasn't certain."

He inhaled deeply, finally gathering the courage to run his fingers along her arm. He traced his thumb over the spot on her wrist where her bandage had been months ago, when they kissed—not their first kiss, ever, but the first one that really mattered. The first one he hadn't backed away from. There were barely noticeable grooves in her skin, which she often wore jewelry or long sleeves to cover.

"I know you really deserve to hear these things when you're awake, and I'm trying, I promise that I'm trying." He pressed his palm against hers and intertwined their fingers, leaning over the bed and lifting her hand until it met his lips. "I understand why you did this," he mumbled as he kissed her knuckles. "But that facts, Paige, are that I need you. Ralph needs you. I always say that Scorpion comes first, that the greater good comes first, but today, I just need you to hold on because I am selfish and I'm not willing to say goodbye to you. Not now. Not ever."

Walter was startled to come across a spot of wetness on Paige's hand, but the painfully obvious reason dawned on him soon enough and he coughed as he cleared away the moisture that was blurring his vision.

"I love you too." The phrase hung in the air, sounding empty without her reciprocation, but he let it stand until he heard tapping on the glass door and looked up to see Toby and Ralph on the other side.

He waved them in, subtly wiping his face despite his knowledge that even the shrink wouldn't harp on him at a time like this. Toby was pushing the young genius in a wheelchair, a temporary precaution until his strength had fully returned. Regardless, Walter was pleased to see that Ralph had recovered enough to leave his bed.

They weren't sure how long it would be before the boy was able to see Paige, or even if he should, but Ralph was far from ordinary. Sheltering him would only frustrate him more, and perhaps Cabe was right, and Paige would somehow sense his presence and find strength in it. Despite all of his scientific knowledge to the contrary, Walter had the strange sensation that Paige was, in fact, listening to him.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked gently, watching Ralph's typically impassive face for a response.

Ralph nodded, reaching down into the narrow space between his side and the arm of the wheelchair and producing a hardcover book. "Research suggests that an unconscious patient's brain activity can still be stimulated. My mom always likes when I read to her."

Walter suppressed a shaky breath. He and the rest of the team could push Ralph to the upper limits of his intelligence, but they would never be able to develop his kindness and empathy the way Paige did. Though they'd never explicitly spoken about it, Walter was sure Paige trusted him to care for Ralph. He just couldn't imagine doing it without her. "I think she'd love that."

Toby brought Ralph to the edge of his bed, urging him not to try to stand for a few more hours. Ralph propped up the worn book on his knees and flipped to the first page, but before he could read a word, Walter's attention was caught by a strangely familiar scuff on the upper right corner.

"Ralph, what book is that?"

The young genius looked over the top edge at him. "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Lewis Carroll. My mom used to read it to me. She liked the fantasy aspect of it, but it also has mathematical elements."

_If you were using that beautiful brain of yours, you would have solved this puzzle a long time ago and saved your precious prodigy._

The hair on the back of Walter's neck rose. "Where did you get it?"

Ralph blinked innocently. "I found it in my desk at the garage yesterday." With a tinge of guilt, he asked, "Was I not supposed to take it?"

"Anything in the garage is yours, Ralph, you know that." Not wanting to worry the boy, Walter extended his hand and said, "Can I just look at it for a minute?"

Toby facilitated the handoff, since they were on opposite sides of Paige's bed, and stared over Walter's shoulder as the genius gathered the top corners of the pages in his fingers and flipped them in sequence. Every tenth page, he guessed, carried some type of marking in dense black ink. "Are those—?"

"Equations," Walter finished. He slammed the book shut, jumping up from his chair and pushing Toby toward the door, out of Ralph's earshot. "Collins was warning me that he was going to come after Ralph, and I missed it. I need to get to the garage right now."

Toby grabbed onto the doorframe, simultaneously resisting Walter's efforts to shove him out of the room and using his body to block the genius's exit. "You're not leaving. Cabe and I will go. Walter, what the hell's going on?"

"I'll explain when you get there." He shoved the book into Toby's arms and let out a rattled sigh. "I think it's the next phase of Collins's game."


	7. Shattered

"We're almost there. Call Walter."

Toby nodded to the agent and tapped the icon on his phone, broadcasting the call through the car's sound system. Each ring seemed excessively loud and shrill in the shrink's exhausted mind until Walter picked up, his voice urgent. "Are you inside?"

"Close. Start filling us in and I'll tell you when we get there."

"Fine." Walter sounded irritated, but cleared his throat and said, "The book. It belonged to Collins when he was part of Scorpion. I recognized the wear on the cover. I knew I'd seen it before. It wasn't there when I set Ralph's desk up, so it must have been put in place intentionally."

Toby furrowed his eyebrows, clutching the phone tighter in his hand even though he was speaking through the Bluetooth. "If it was in the garage, couldn't one of us have put it there accidentally? And how does this help Paige?"

"Because it wasn't _in_ the garage. Or at least, not in a place any of you would have stumbled across it."

Cabe jerked the car to a stop in front of the building and they scrambled out. The agent pressed the entry code into the keypad and threw open the front door as Toby turned on his speakerphone to carry the conversation into the Scorpion headquarters. "We're here, genius, tell us what we're looking for."

"Behind the broken computer equipment. The stuff Happy keeps saying she's going to fix. Check the wall."

Cabe jogged over to the designated area, pushing aside a rickety metal shelving unit full of busted keyboards and modems. He looked surprised as his fingers traced a section of the water-damaged gray wall. "This has been plastered over. It's smoother than the rest."

"Tear it up, Cabe. We need to see what's inside," Walter's voice rang clearly over the phone. "Do it now!"

The agent took a quick inventory of the items around him, landing on the larger tools that Happy kept on a display she designed. He grabbed her sledgehammer and swung it at the wall, shielding his eyes from the crumbling debris and dust.

Cabe and Toby yanked the rest of the jagged plaster off with their hands, stopping when they revealed a square metal box. They lifted it by the handles and dragged it to Happy's workstation, grunting from the substantial weight. "What the hell is this?"

"Collins hid things in that wall. I was the only one who knew about it, but I never looked. I'd forgotten about it until I saw the book—it's the only thing I knew for sure he kept in there." Walter exhaled deeply, as if the discovery was stirring up difficult memories for him—and perhaps it was. When it came to Collins, every memory was tinged with pain. Mark thrived on that. "Is there a lock?"

"Yeah." Cabe crouched down to inspect the seemingly simple six-digit combination lock. He peered into Happy's toolbox for a hammer. "I can break it. I just need—."

"No, don't!" Walter said anxiously, stopping the agent in his tracks. "Don't break it, and don't guess. If Collins has put defense mechanisms in place, the contents of that box could be destroyed before we get into it. I think this is what some of the equations are for."

Toby glanced uncertainly at Cabe, who shrugged, now out of his depth. "Some of them?"

He heard Walter mumble to another person in the background before returning to the line. "We were studying the photos you sent of the formulas in the book. I noticed that certain page numbers corresponded with significant dates in my relationship with Collins. After arranging those dates in chronological order and solving the equations, Sylvester came up with a six-digit code."

Sylvester. Of course. That explained that _we_. "And if it's not the right one?" Toby asked, his mind suddenly filled with images of triggering a catastrophic explosion or perhaps being overrun by venomous spiders. Collins was a fan of elaborate traps, after all.

"Just enter it, Toby," Walter snapped. "Zero, nine, two, seven, one, zero."

The psychologist didn't have Walter and Sylvester's perfect recall of dates, but he knew why Walter was confident that he'd correctly deduced the code. September 27, 2010. The day Collins joined Scorpion. The day Walter had given him a purpose.

Toby rotated the final number into place and the lock slid open easily. He held his breath and squeezed one eye shut, preparing for the worst, but several seconds passed without incident and Cabe assisted him in lifting the heavy lid.

"Well, I'll be damned," Agent Gallo drawled as they inspected the contents. There was a plastic tray—cold to the touch, Toby noted, controlled by some kind of temperature regulator—that housed rows of skinny glass ampoules, each filled with crystal clear liquid.

"There are _fifty_ vials in here, Walter," Toby explained with a hint of disbelief. "We can test them all to figure out which one's the antidote, but it'll take forever."

"Actually, I don't think we can," Cabe grumbled, drawing his attention to a loaded spring in the upper corner.

Toby certainly wasn't a mechanic, but he'd learned enough over the years from watching Happy to trace the connecting wires and make an educated guess about their purpose. "Cabe's right. There's an alarm in here. Once we move a vial, it sounds and the rest of them shatter. It'll be impossible to find the antidote when that happens."

"Then make sure it doesn't happen," Walter bit out in a tone that made it pretty clear Toby wouldn't be forgiven if he failed. He wouldn't expect forgiveness. He wouldn't be likely to forgive himself. "Sylvester solved the other seven equations, but I don't know what the results mean. Even if the vials are numbered, we're only looking for one."

Collins was giving them all the clues they needed. September 27. Fifty vials. Seven numbers.

They were missing something. The last piece of the puzzle.

"That smug bastard," Toby muttered before yanking the phone up to his mouth. "Walter, think about the day you met Collins. How did you know he was a genius?"

Walter hesitated for a second, rewinding to his stored memories of that fateful day. "Uh, he was working on calculations. An equation he created for more efficient space travel. We finished it together."

Toby nodded, a pointless gesture since Walter couldn't see him. "The first project you worked on together. Collins bragged about it all the time, and he can't resist bringing it up now. Run the equation with those seven numbers."

"Already on it," Sylvester said breathlessly. The silence between the four men grew more and more deafening until he announced, "Thirty-seven. It's thirty-seven. I really hope you're right about this."

"So do I." Toby inhaled to steady his nerves, pausing just before fingers reached the top of the vial in the third row. "And Walter, if I'm wrong…" He swallowed hard. It was their only chance to save Paige. He couldn't be wrong. "Then I'm really, really sorry."

In one swift motion, the shrink grasped the container and stumbled backward with it just as a piercing sound struck his ears and echoed off hundreds of colliding glass shards. Cabe pushed him down with one arm around his back, shielding him. And then as quickly as it had started, the alarm faded out, and Toby straightened, cringing. "Ow. My cochlea."

* * *

"Cabe said you were pretty badass today," Happy noted as she settled into the chair next to Toby. She dusted a speck of glass off his shirt, catching it in her palm so it wouldn't land on the hospital floor.

"I'm only badass if it works."

"Hey," the mechanic said calmly, resting her hand on his upper arm and rubbing it reassuringly. "It'll work."

The laboratory had run tests on the liquid in the vial to ensure that it wasn't another toxin—or, for that matter, sugar water—but there was still no guarantee it was what Paige needed. Her organs were on the verge of shutting down, and if what he retrieved was anything other than the antidote, nothing short of a miracle would be able to save her.

Doctors were understandably skittish about administering an unknown substance to a patient until Walter and Cabe signed about seventy forms absolving the hospital of any liability. Toby wished there was a form he could sign, an agreement that would protect him from the consequences if all this went sideways. Walter would never trust him again. But the shrink figured he could accept that, knowing that he'd done what he could to help save Paige. At the very least, it would give Walter someone to blame other than himself.

* * *

She blinked her eyes open, pain searing through her skull. Paige shifted in her bed, thrown off by the texture of the sheets under her bare legs. They felt rougher than usual. Gradually, her ears adjusted to the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and she held one hand up to shield her face from the blinding white light.

Everything came flooding back, fragmented and hazy. She was in the hospital and Ralph— _Ralph_.

"I'm right here," Paige imagined him saying, but his small hand squeezed hers and it felt so real. As her vision adjusted to the brightness of the room, she realized that it _was_ real, he was real, sitting in a chair next to her and looking solemn but otherwise fine. She tried to sit up, but her muscles weren't cooperating. Ralph laid his other hand on her shoulder, pushing her back down. "Don't try to move. I'm fine, mom. And so are you. It's over."

After hours of fighting, of pain and uncertainty and fear, those words— _it's over_ —struck her deeply, and suddenly Paige was crying so hard that she had to gasp for breath. Ralph climbed onto her bed, still moving a little slowly, and curled up next to her on the mattress, resting his head against her shoulder. As best as she could, Paige wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his head.

She thought she'd never get to do this again.

There was a flash of movement in the corner of her eye, and when she looked up, Walter was standing in the doorway, looking like he hadn't slept in days. Paige weakly motioned for him to join them, and he circled around the opposite side of the bed from Ralph and sat down on the edge, tentatively reaching out to trail his fingers along her cheek.

"The doctors are coming to check on you," Walter said, a subtle tremor in his voice. "But they said your vitals are stable."

"Walter…"

"They want to keep you overnight," he rambled on, purposefully ignoring her. "For observation. But you can go home as soon as they've—."

"Walter," Paige interrupted as firmly as she could manage, wrapping her hand around his and holding it still. He fell quiet, alternating his gaze between her and the floor. "What happened? Is the team okay?"

The genius nodded.

"Good." Her grip tightened on Ralph, who was listening to their conversation silently, as if she was trying to protect him from the name itself. "Collins?"

Walter opened his mouth and shut it several times before exhaling shakily. "He gave Ralph the antidote and then disappeared. We're no closer to him than we were before."

"I doubt that."

He offered her a hollow smile, which quickly faded as she squeezed his palm. Walter's gaze traveled between her and her son, the two people he couldn't live without and yet had come so close to losing. The thought inspired a wave of nausea in his stomach. "You…really scared me today."

"And yet here we are," Paige said, her lips twisting into a light grin. "Scorpion never fails."

Even after facing death, her faith in the team was unwavering. Walter wondered how she did it. How she could be so calm when he was still reeling and felt like there hadn't been any oxygen in his lungs since Ralph first collapsed.

But he didn't say anything. He just held on to Paige tightly—maybe too tightly—recognizing a second chance when he saw one.

* * *

"Hell of a day." Toby meant it humorously, but his voice was worn too thin to sell the joke. He banged the side of his fist against the vending machine, sighing in frustration as the soda he'd chosen rattled around uselessly inside.

"Here." Walter motioned for him to step aside and pressed down on the selection button before entering a series of numbers into the keypad. The can dropped neatly into the deposit bay. "Override code."

Toby glanced at Walter out of the corner of his eye. "You could have done that before I paid."

"That's stealing."

Toby geared up a response but decided against it, cracking open the tab on his soda and allowing the foam to die down. A little silence wasn't the absolute worst thing he could face, it turned out.

"What you did today…I, uh, I should thank you." Walter stared down at his feet, one hand reaching up to rub the muscles in his shoulders and neck. Toby didn't answer, allowing him time to collect his thoughts. It was a wonder either of them could still think—or stand—after being awake for so long. "I don't know if I'd have been able to make that decision. Paige wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you."

Toby managed a clumsy smirk as he brought the can to his lips. "You helped too."

"I guess it was naïve to expect a 'you're welcome,' huh?" But Walter was smiling too, and before long they were both chuckling, due as much to delirium as anything else.

"You're welcome." The psychologist knew he should leave it at that, but a singular thought had been nagging at him since he'd left the garage hours ago. Despite calculating a moderate risk of setting Walter off again, Toby let his curiosity win out. "Why did Collins even have the antidote? If he wanted Paige gone, he wouldn't have led us straight to the cure. I don't understand what his endgame is."

Walter didn't look surprised by the question. He'd likely been asking it himself all day. "I think Collins benefits either way." The genius stretched out his hands, the cracking of his knuckles punctuating the silence. "If…if we didn't decipher the clues in time, he would have made sure I knew that the answer was right under my nose. That I had the cure in my hands and I missed it. He knows I'd never forgive myself for that."

_Damn,_ Toby was glad they didn't have to face that reality. "But we did. What does Collins get out of this?"

"He gets us." Walter knitted his brows intently, glancing up until he met Toby's eyes. "Scorpion. He told me he wanted revenge, but his actions offer evidence to the contrary. He can't return to the team, so he's doing the next best thing. As long as these games continue, we have to acknowledge him. He's still a part of our lives."

"That does sound like him," Toby muttered. "But he keeps coming after Paige and Ralph. It's not fair. We were the ones that turned against him."

"No. _We_ didn't. I did." Walter blew a deep breath out through his nose. "They're in danger because of my decisions. And one day Collins is going to decide that the games aren't working anymore. He won't give us a way out. And we won't win."

Toby wanted to assure him that he was wrong. But he wasn't. "What are you gonna do?"

Walter looked at Toby squarely, a hint of pain coloring his expression. And Toby understood. "The right thing."


	8. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for this one, but there's a sequel coming up! I promise! Thanks for reading. :)

"You can change your mind, you know."

Even though he'd been watching her for the better part of an hour as the team said their goodbyes—he was certain that even Happy had gotten emotional during a split-second embrace with the liaison and her son—Walter was still startled when Paige spoke. Her voice was beautiful. He couldn't stop thinking that, no matter what she was saying. He'd always considered her voice lovely, but the genius appreciated it so much more now, after he believed he might never hear it again.

Paige stepped forward, but she sensed how tightly Walter was wound and maintained a few feet of distance between them. "You know that we trust you. If this is what you want, we'll do it. But I still think we'll be safer with the team."

"I think we've proven that's not true," Walter said, but the words sounded weaker than he intended. He was confident in the logic. He'd run the scenarios and made the plans and calculated the odds of success. He should have sounded more certain, but his mouth was dry and blood was pumping loudly in his ears, making speech somewhat difficult. "I can't force you to do this, Paige, so I guess…I guess I'm begging you." The urge to move toward her was so strong that he had to press his back farther into the sharp metal shelves he was leaning on to counter it. "I don't want this either, but you know the alternative. If Collins had succeeded in hurting you…if he _did_ succeed, in the future…b-because of me, I would…"

"Shut down," Paige finished, nodding understandingly. He'd come close enough to that when Megan died—she didn't want to imagine what could happen if she and Ralph were no longer a part of his life.

He shrugged, but it was a gesture of helplessness rather than apathy. "It's the only way I know to keep you safe."

"I know." Paige wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her palms along the sleeves of her sweater. There felt like an ocean of distance between her and Walter already, and she hadn't even left the garage yet. "Are you sure you can't come with us to the airport?"

The genius was so tempted to say _yes_ , but none of his scenarios revealed that to be a viable option if he was going to stay on track with his plan. "I wish I could, Paige, but I—."

"I understand," Paige interrupted, offering him a smile that didn't reflect in her eyes. "Clean break." Walter's face fell, and she took another hesitant step forward, planting her fingers on the desk next to her to restrain herself. "I'm sorry, that's not what I meant."

Walter crossed his arms, mirroring her body language, before reaching one hand up to rub his face. He'd gotten slightly more rest over the last three days, while Paige and Ralph finished healing, but he could still feel the exhaustion all the way down to his bones. "I know that I, uh, I'm asking you to wait, but I understand if you can't—I mean, if you don't…"

He trailed off, a silent plea in his expression, but Paige just shook her head gently. "Walter, when this is over, Ralph and I are coming home to you. Okay? Nothing is going to change that."

"Okay," the genius replied, glancing down and letting out a relieved breath. They lapsed into momentary silence until a pair of small feet shuffled down the stairs from the loft and Ralph stepped between them.

"I told Ferret Bueller we wouldn't be gone very long," he announced, adjusting the strap of a duffel bag nearly as large as him over his shoulder. "Right?"

Walter smiled, crouching down until he was slightly shorter than Ralph. "Right." He reached out to ruffle the young genius's hair. "You have everything you need?"

"I think so."

"Just remember to be careful on the internet, alright, buddy? Make sure you're always using the encryption software I gave you."

Ralph blinked, his deep brown eyes thoughtful under his sweeping eyelashes. "I could help you find Collins, you know," he said simply. "I'm not afraid of him."

Walter felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. He was determined to stay calm for Ralph, not to betray any of the fear and sadness he felt, but that was becoming more difficult by the minute. "I know. And one day you'll bringing down all kinds of bad guys like Collins. But right now, this is how you help the team. By taking care of your mom and staying safe."

Ralph fiddled with the strap again, his fingers finally settling on the black fabric before he looked up and said, "Got it."

Paige cleared her throat. "Why don't you go put your stuff in the car, honey? Cabe's already waiting for us."

Walter drew Ralph into a hug, squeezing him once before releasing and watching him disappear out the door of the garage. It was just him and Paige now. The genius knew this point would come, but he was still clueless about how to approach it. If there even existed the correct words for this situation, they were lost on him, as usual.

"Happy gave you the burner phones? The IDs?"

Paige nodded, lifting up her purse in demonstration.

"Good." He shoved his hands into his pockets as he pushed himself up off the floor. "Happy's the only one who knows where you're going. She's, uh…she's the only one of us that Collins can't break." Walter thought that focusing on the facts about Paige's departure would soothe him, somehow, but they had no effect except to make his throat feel even tighter. "The less contact you have with us, the less likely that you can be tracked. But there's a secure line you can call if you need help."

"I know. Happy showed me." Paige wished Walter would stop avoiding her gaze, even though she knew the reason behind it. She just wanted to see him look at her again—that way that always shot right through her. "And when you find Collins? When it's safe?"

She knew the answer. She just needed to hear him say it.

"I'll be on the first flight out to get you," Walter said seriously. "I promise."

There wasn't even a chance he'd break his promise. She was certain of that.

Another long moment of quiet passed. She wasn't sure of the appropriate response to this situation, either, but she absolutely couldn't leave things like this, awkward and unfinished and painful even though neither of them wanted it to hurt this much. "Can…are you going to kiss me?"

It wasn't what she'd planned to say, but she didn't take it back. Paige was pretty sure she was going to fall apart if she couldn't touch Walter before she left. His eyebrows raised slightly as he straightened up in surprise. "We both know…" The genius cleared his throat. "If I do that, it's going to be harder. A lot harder."

"You're right," she said softly. Walter was disappointed to hear the words from her, even though he knew it was the logical course, but he caught the flash in her eye just before she muttered, "Screw it, I don't care."

In an instant, her lips were on his, her purse forgotten on the floor and the force of her body making him stumble backward into the shelves. There was no way he'd push her away now, and if she was willing to accept the consequences of this, the least he could was make the moment worth it. Walter slid his hands around to her back and crushed her against him, using her quiet gasp to gain entry with his tongue. It was all he would have for weeks, maybe months—there was no way to know—and he needed his eidetic memory to capture every piece of her. Her taste, her scent, the pressure of her mouth, that little noise she made in the back of her throat, the strands of her hair tickling his hand as it moved up to the back of her head. He never wanted to forget.

She released him a second later, breathless and flushed, only to grasp the back of his shirt collar with her fingers as she buried her face in his neck. "I love you, Walter." She sighed—not the happy, contented sigh he enjoyed hearing when he held her, but something more desperate. "I love you so much. And so does Ralph. All we want is to be with you. Never let Collins make you believe anything different, okay? Don't let him get into your head."

_Don't give in._ The future he'd dreamed of with Paige and Ralph—the one that suddenly flooded his thoughts in vivid detail—depended on him going against Collins and winning. He couldn't fail this time.

"Okay." Walter realized how tightly he was gripping her and dropped his hands to his sides, afraid that if he didn't, he might not let go at all. "I love you."

He wasn't creative with the words, but Paige never once doubted that he meant them. She lifted her hand up to his face and trailed her thumb along his cheekbone, memorizing the sensation even though she wouldn't remember quite as well as him. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

Walter stared blankly at the bowl of cereal on his desk. Cabe had placed it in front of him with a _how long has it been since you've eaten?_ and a concerned pat on the shoulder, but that was thirty minutes earlier and the contents of the bowl were probably soggy by now. He pushed it aside. It was true that he hadn't been sleeping or eating much in the past week, even though Happy and Cabe assured him that Paige and Ralph made it safely to their destination and had more than enough funds to enjoy what amounted to a long, well-deserved vacation.

But Collins was radio silent. Walter knew he should stop spending long nights in front of the computer, reviewing every ounce of data they had ever collaborated on, tracing his background thoroughly, looking for a trace of him. Mark wasn't dead, but he was a ghost.

It was on nights like this—close to nine p.m., Walter realized, even though Cabe had given him granola because it was all they had in the garage—when he wondered if he'd made the right choice in letting her go. The search could last much longer than he anticipated. And running at Collins like this, head-on, meant he might not survive to fulfill the promise he made.

But he'd accept any sacrifice to protect his family.

Walter was almost relieved to be drawn out of his thoughts by a knock on the door. It was odd for the team not to use the code to get in, but it _was_ after business hours—they were likely trying to be respectful of his boundaries.

_Well, not Toby, then._

The genius didn't bother to check the peephole. He combed through his coarse hair quickly before pressing down on the metal handle and swinging open the door.

"You look like hell."

Walter swallowed hard.

Collins cracked a half-smile. "Don't worry, you're not hallucinating. Although it seems like it has been a while since you've slept." He pressed on the other side of the door, easing his way past Walter, who was too stunned to speak. He reached the middle of the office before spinning around and holding out his arms, palms up, wrists joined together. "I assume you'll want to restrain me?"

Walter let the door shut behind him with a clang, staring dumbly at Collins. Despite his former partner's insistence, part of him still believed that Mark was in his head, a product of too many hours spent obsessively studying Collins's life. Taking slow steps forward, he stopped less than a foot from the disgraced genius and pulled back his arm, blinking in surprise when his fist connected with Mark's very real jaw.

"Ow," Collins said dramatically, rubbing the area with one hand. "Well, at least we got that out of the way."

A rush of satisfaction rolled over Walter, and he stepped a little closer, his hand balling back into a fist. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

Mark scoffed, waving his hand dismissively as if the question barely warranted consideration. "Because if you were going to, you would have done it years ago. And also because I have certain…assurances in place." Walter stiffened, but Collins merely rolled his eyes. "Relax, I haven't gone looking for your perfect little dollhouse family. Yet. I came here for a civilized conversation."

He pulled out two chairs, settling into one and pushing the other toward Walter with his foot, motioning for him to sit down. Even Walter wasn't sure what compelled him to take the seat instead of tackling Collins to the ground or lunging for the phone, but Mark's eerily calm tone made him reasonably sure that he didn't have the upper hand. With Collins, he never quite did.

"So." Mark leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. "I'm sure you have questions, Walter. I think it's time we talked."


End file.
